The Golden Suspect
"You are dismissed," the King said. His voice was dry, like leaves skittering across stone. "You are to leave the castle before the moon rises. Take nothing with you. Not even the ring." I did not bow. I did not weep. I stood in the center of the Great Hall, my hands folded tightly in front of my waist, and I watched the dust motes dance in the shafts of pale afternoon light. The courtiers...
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